


To Talk to You and Make You Understand

by ryry_peaches



Series: Missing Conversations From the Creek [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Episode: s04e09 The Olive Branch, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22289500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryry_peaches/pseuds/ryry_peaches
Summary: David and Patrick's conversation and the rest of their evening after David's lip synch performance in The Olive Branch-David flaps a hand out behind himself to shush Patrick.  "No, I owe you an explanation and I just. Can't look you in the eye while I give it to you, okay?  Just…let me do this."There's a soft sound behind him, like maybe Patrick is shifting in his chair.  "Okay," Patrick says quietly.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Missing Conversations From the Creek [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604422
Comments: 46
Kudos: 362





	To Talk to You and Make You Understand

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a lot fluffier, less emotional. It got away from me a bit.
> 
> EDIT: as of 6/27/20, i have changed the title from "to find the right words and breathe in between" to its current title, which is from More Than Words by Extreme; fittingly, a romantic ballad about showing love. The original title was from a PWR BTTM song, and when i wrote this i wasn't aware that one of the members of that band is a predator. i don't want to promote them through my work (or listen to them, naturally) now that i know that.

The song runs its course, and David is still on his knees, breathless, looking up at Patrick with his heart in his throat. The store is conspicuously quiet now, and the question plays over and over in David's mind: _did it work? Was that good? Was it enough?_

Patrick is looking at David like he's something worth looking at, and it's strange — David is no stranger to attention, to the spotlight, for various and sundry reasons both good and bad. He's used to being looked at, in front of cameras, on stages. He used to have a key to Paris Hilton's summer cottage, for fuck's sake — the point is, he's been looked at, a _lot,_ by a lot of people, and not one of them has ever looked the way Patrick looks right now.

He just _sits_ there, smiling all wide and goofy and shaking his head like David is a revelation.

David, of course, takes no time at all to snap under the weight of that gaze and his own uncertainty. "Okay, " he says as soon as he draws in the air, rising gracelessly to one knee, "dinner. My treat. The cafe?"

"Hey, no, come here a second," Patrick says, reaching for David's hand. He's still grinning. "Come here." He spreads his knees, and David — David hasn't sat in a partner's lap since high school. Too timid to take up that kind of space, outside of sex. But this is Patrick — it's _Patrick._ Patrick, who's gentle and precise. David awkwardly climbs up into his lap, like a little bear cub or something, and wraps his arms around Patrick's neck because there is literally nowhere else to put them, and Patrick wraps his arms around David's waist and he's everywhere, Patrick is everywhere, warm and solid, and he's _still fucking smiling_ like it's the natural state of his features. "David, we're going to talk about this," he says quietly, and his voice is just slightly rough.

"Mm, but like, we don't have to, though," David ekes out. He's in Patrick's lap, that means he's forgiven, right?

"Oh, I think we do," Patrick says, his smile morphing just a little bit — it's the same face he wore that night at Stevie's when he'd pretty much finished needling David about the whole Jake thing but wasn't quite ready to let it go yet. _"Who's feeling sexy,"_ David had said, going in for a deep kiss, and Patrick had turned his head; _"Getting there, for sure."_ He's making _that_ face now.

David shrugs, helpless, and resists the very strong urge to shove his face in Patrick's neck and hide. "What do you want me to say?" He asks instead, feeling every bit as helpless as he's sure he looks.

"Mm." Patrick looks like he's considering, for a moment; the smile softens off his face completely, finally, and his eyes are gentle on David's now. "I want to understand, David. This, what you just did? Was so thoughtful, and sweet, and selfless, and that's who you are, that's the guy I've fallen for. You've never been cruel." David twists his mouth a little, drops his eyes, but doesn't say anything. "How is that the same guy who let me agonize over hurting you while you were just — going about your life and collecting gifts?" His voice isn't cruel — it's almost too sweet, like he's ready to accept an explanation.

David pushes his lip out and raises his eyes to the heavens, fighting the ridiculous urge to cry, because that's _fair,_ it's fair to want an explanation, because Patrick doesn't get it, and how could he get it? And David is going to have to explain his thought process, damn it all, and Patrick is going to rightfully think he's crazy and just get up and —

 _No._ He cuts off his own anxious spiral. No, Patrick won't, that's why they're in this position in the first place. Patrick won't dump him, in any and every sense. Patrick will try to understand. David just has to trust him. "Okay, I need to…not be looking at you," he decides, and although it feels like every nerve in his body is desperate to stay, he slides away from Patrick and turns away from him, from the windows. He trains his eyes on a neat row of paper bags of loose-leaf tea on the front table, and then he sucks in a big breath, blows it out, and says, "It wasn't the gifts."

"David —"

David flaps a hand out behind himself to shush Patrick. "No, I owe you an explanation and I just. Can't look you in the eye while I give it to you, okay? Just…let me do this."

There's a soft sound behind him, like maybe Patrick is shifting in his chair. "Okay," Patrick says quietly.

"Okay. It wasn't — okay, so after the barbecue." He blows out another breath. "I know that I was the one who told you to leave, and I meant it when I said I just needed a break, but I thought that was it, you know? You left and I thought, that's it, now I've ruined the longest relationship I've ever had and lost one of my best friends." He laughs, trying to stave off tears, and as a small miracle, it works. "And I didn't handle it gracefully at all — I basically ate all the leftovers, and a box of chocolates I found under my sister's bed, and then I went to sleep. And when I woke up the next morning I took one of my mom's Vicodin and went right back to sleep.

"I just couldn't deal with it, you know? You, our relationship, our friendship, the business, I thought I'd ruined it. I mean, I mostly thought _you_ had ruined it, and partly Alexis, but like also I should have just kept my mouth shut about Rachel? Because now I'd just pushed you away."

There's a louder shifting sound, the scrape of the chair against the floor. David is pretty sure Patrick has stood up.

"And then you texted me, and you were _so sweet,_ just checking in on me, and I realized that maybe everything wasn't ruined, but I wasn't ready for it to _not_ be ruined, either? Like, I was still really mad at you. For not telling me about Rachel. And I was also pretty sure you were just being nice. And I just…couldn't believe that you'd hurt me, even though I knew you didn't mean to, and I was still really feeling that?

"Then Stevie made me go to that spa, and they put us in a honeymoon suite and made us wear these stupid crowns and there was this curry? And you sent us wine, and the waitress was so _weird_ about it, and after that…I don't know. You were still talking to me, you know?

"I've never had someone fight for me before. I didn't know the protocol. And you were giving me these gifts that were gorgeous, and thoughtful, and sweet, but Patrick, they could have been Hallmark cards or messages in bottles or sticky notes. It wasn't what the gifts were. It wasn't…the olive branches themselves, it was the fact that you were extending them, and kept extending them, and I literally did not know what to do, so I kind of waited a couple of days to see if you'd give up and you _didn't._ You never gave up on me, and that's when I knew for sure, and I know that doesn't make any sense and I realize now how unfair it was and that I made you feel like I didn't care for you when all you were _doing_ was trying to make me feel cared for but…That's what happened, okay?"

David isn't quite sure when he started crying. It's not heavy, he isn't sobbing, but the tears are definitely there, running down his cheeks.

"David," Patrick says quietly, "Turn around."

David sniffles. "I really don't want to do that," he says, and swipes fruitlessly at his eyes as more tears come. And then suddenly he _is_ sobbing, like it was all he could do to get the words out, apparently, and it's probably also an adrenaline crash from the song because he really just _performed_ for Patrick, and it's like his head is full of sawdust.

"Please." Patrick's hand is on his shoulder, and suddenly David is turning around, just from that gentle touch that makes him want to listen. Patrick slides his hand lightly down David's arm until they're hand-in-hand, although David's hand is sort of limp, so Patrick is just holding it very gently.

"I'm sorry I ruined a nice moment," David says, forcing a little laugh.

Patrick smiles, and his eyes look sad — sad for David, but not pitying, and then David's brain produces the word _sympathy_ and oh, that makes sense. "You didn't ruin anything," he says softly, "David, God. You didn't ruin anything." His other hand comes up to cup David's cheek; earlier, when he did that, it felt — _well._ David is perfectly capable of admitting to himself that his boyfriend — they're boyfriends again, or still, right? — holding him in place and looking right at him and telling him to sit and think about what he'd done gave him confusing feelings. Because yeah, he felt guilty but also holy shit that had been _hot._ This isn't hot. It's not _not_ hot. Patrick is always completely in control, but this is gentle and sweet, and then Patrick's eyes are doing that dip they do before he — _Oh,_ then he's kissing David softly, warmly, more than a peck but not by much, and then he's kissing David right under his eye, and then under the other eye. _Oh,_ David has read about people kissing away their lover's tears, it's in so many books, but no one has ever in his entire bitch of a life treated him so tenderly.

Patrick pulls back, and he's looking at David with wide eyes and something near a smile, and he shakes David's limp hand by the fingertips and says, "How 'bout we get some food in you?"

The diner is open because even though it's felt like the longest day of David's life just about, it's only about seven in the evening. They sit at the counter, side by side, and Twyla, bless her, seems to pick up on the weirdness between them. "I'm glad you two worked things out," she says with a bright smile when she takes their order, but she doesn't make any small talk, doesn't share any personal anecdotes.

Patrick waits to start in again until the food comes, watches impassively as David very carefully covers the surface of his meatloaf with a thin layer of barbecue sauce, and waits until David is chewing before he says, "I haven't thanked you yet."

David makes a sound not totally unlike choking and swallows his mouthful of ground beef. "Um? For what?"

"For what you did back there," Patrick says. "I know it's not easy for you to perform like that, and it means a lot to me that it's something you trusted me with. Something you did for me. David, I'm very grateful that you did that for me."

David is reminded of the moments after their first kiss, when Patrick couldn't seem to say the words. Patrick talked afterwards about his lack of experience, but there have only been a few times when he seemed inexperienced, unsure.

"Well…that's very sweet of you to say," David says, feeling off-kilter — an increasingly common feeling in those rare moments where Patrick doesn't seem self-assured, which is scary. David isn't sure when his sense of emotional equilibrium got so wrapped up in their relationship. "Um, I'd like to say I was happy to do it, but I felt a little sick the entire time." Patrick smiles that wide smile that David knows he doesn't fake, the one he gives David when he's acting absolutely ridiculous but Patrick is finding it endearing. "But it was worth it because it made you do that," David says, gesturing to Patrick with a sweep of his fork, "So."

Patrick's eyes soften. Alexis isn't right often, but she was right when she met Patrick that he _is_ a sweet little button. No one has ever looked at David so softly, certainly not while he was eating, eating with his cheeks red and his eyes surely swollen from crying.

Despite the song and the meatloaf and the tears, David thinks this might be one of the best days of his life.

They go back to Patrick's after dinner — they don't plan to do anything, both pretty wrung-out from the day, but they both agree they want to hold one another, don't want to be apart. Ray is mercifully already shut away in his room, and Patrick leads David to his own by the hand.

"Um, I need…" David hesitates.

"Your toothbrush is in the drawer in the bathroom and I stuck your spare pajamas in the third drawer on the dresser," Patrick says without looking, rifling through the drawer on his nightstand. "Oh! I knew I had it in here." He turns around, grinning, holding up a little bottle. "That co-op gave us some sample sizes of that charcoal cleanser you use, and I took one home to — are you okay?"

David is standing in the middle of the room, one hand on his hip and the other sort of flapping around up by his mouth. "You uh…kept my stuff?"

Patrick squints at him, tips his head. "It's been a _week,_ David, and we didn't even break up for real. Did you think I was just gonna toss out your things?"

"Um." David turns his head away. "Now it seems very sad for me if I say 'yes,' doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does make me sad," Patrick says, stepping up and taking David's hand. "That you've been taught to expect that from people, but, David, I wouldn't just cast you out like that. I know —"

"You don't have to do this —"

"Yes, I do." Patrick cups David's face with his hand again, but doesn't guide him, just holds him. "I broke your trust once, David. I don't intend on doing it again."

David's lips thin as he considers that. "It just doesn't come naturally," he says, closing his eyes. His leg shakes like it's physically costing him to say something so vulnerable, and then he opens his eyes and looks sideways at Patrick. "But I want…to trust you."

Patrick smiles like he's been given a present. "Go get ready for bed," he says softly.

They fall asleep that night curled into each other like cats, like yin and yang. Patrick falls asleep quicker and easier, and David lies there for a bit with his eyes open, listening to Patrick's soft snoring, and wonders when someone who breathes like his dad at night became so important, so worth risking his heart for. And then he thinks over the past week, and the day he's had, and it occurs to him that maybe giving his heart to Patrick won't be a risk at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit my main tumblr at fourgetregret and/or my schitt tumblr at loveburnsbrighter !
> 
> EDIT: i was rewatching girls' night and realized that david definitely has sat in patrick's lap well before the events of the olive branch. so, whatever, there is a smidge of canon non-compliance here but i like that paragraph and i'm getting rlly positive feedback about it so it stays. also, thanks for all the love, guys! i'm honored so many people have enjoyed this little coda!


End file.
